Merriment of the Young Jester
by Cinnamin-chan
Summary: Based on Romeo & Juliet the 60s movie version. A young Romeo and his friends plan to attend a festival, but on the day of the party, Mercutio falls ill. With Romeo's help, he finds a way to have his own fun. Oneshot.


**A/N: **My first R&J story. I originally planned to write more of this and eventually lead up to Mercutio's death, but I felt that a one-shot of a nice little childhood memory was good enough for now. I might possibly add more later, but who knows? This was fun to write, even though my Elizabethan sucks. Oo Please R&R if you like it! And of course, I don't own the play, the movie, etc., etc.

* * *

"Just imagine! Oh, the dancing! The festivities! The girls!"

All of the boys began to laugh, listening to Mercutio serenade them with carnival songs and tell tales of the events that were going to take place very soon. He looked quite proud, most likely because he was the center of attention and could see above the rest, as he was standing on top of an old wooden crate.

"What of the girls, Mercutio?" asked Benvolio, laughing delightedly.

"Oh, the girls, you ask?" he replied, emphasizing the word "girls". "Well... costume or no costume, I'm sure they'll be fine... especially those of 'no costume', if thou understands of what I imply!"

The group roared with laughter. Romeo couldn't help but grin as well. None of them were past age thirteen, yet here Mercutio was, making saucy little jokes to a bunch of impressionable young boys. Romeo had always thought Mercutio was a bit immature and fancied himself as a slightly more matured young person, but even so, he couldn't resist taking part of such fun. It was as though Mercutio's laugh was contagious; you couldn't be around him and not smile.

And that is why he is my best friend, thought Romeo, continuing to listen to the ongoing speech about "no costume" girls.

"When is it again?" interrupted one of the boys.

"Tomorrow evening, my friend!" yelled Mercutio, inciting a loud cheer from the group. "We shall feast! And, if we're lucky..." He lowered his voice slightly. "...we may possibly acquire some drinks!"

Excited whispers spread throughout the crowd as all of them considered the prospect of obtaining wine.

"O Mercutio, you're so brave!" said one of the youngest boys. "Art thou really going to be present at the festival?"

Mercutio's face flashed from disbelief to one of seriousness. "Dear boy..." He stepped down from the crate and walked up to the boy, bending his legs a little to be face-to-face. "Of course I shall not attend. I was merely lying, you see. Parties? Hmph! How trivial! How insignificant! Such a waste of valuable time!"

The boy could only stare in shock until a wide grin broke onto Mercutio's face and he suddenly yelled, "Marry, YES, I'm going! Art thou some sort of fool?!"

"Nay, Mercutio, you are the biggest joker of them all!" laughed Romeo, and the loudest cheer yet errupted from the boys. After a few minutes, the crowd had scattered, all of them going home to prepare themselves for the festival. Romeo and Benvolio, however, remained.

"Thou seems to know precisely what stirs up the masses, don't you, good sir?" said Benvolio, grinning.

"Why yes, good sir, I do believe that indeed, I am able to incite those around me," smirked Mercutio. He motioned for Benvolio and Romeo to follow him down a dirt path, which led to Benvolio's house.

"Mercutio, you jest so," remarked Romeo, laughing. "But do you truly intend on attending the festival? Years before, you did not go; you had been rebuked by your father for making quite a scene at the market on the previous day."

"Oh, how I remember that," said Meructio fondly, his eyes staring at the sky dreamily. "I had stolen an apple. A simple apple. Little devilish me, I believed I could get away with it, but nay, the forces of beyond had a different idea for me that day, and instead, the only red object that joined me on the journey home was a large welp on my backside."

The three of them laughed as Mercutio slapped the air to mimick the motions of his father. "Anyway," he continued, "I dare not miss it for the world. Because I hear the most lovely girls in all of Verona, nay, Italy itself, are going to be there," he said slyly, winking at Romeo. "Wouldst thou ever dream of passing up that opportunity?"

Romeo scoffed. "I doubt that in all of Verona, nor Italy itself, should exist such a lady as to capture this heart," he said, placing a hand on his chest, smirking.

Benvolio snickered. "Romeo, the day that you are overcome with grief by a lover lost, a bird that has escaped from its cage, be aware that both I and Mercutio here shall mock you to no end."

"Most certainly myself," said Mercutio, sticking his tongue out, and Romeo punched him playfully on the arm.

"Here we are," said Benvolio. They had arrived at his house, which was fairly large. His mother was standing by the window, and she waved. Benvolio waved in returned, then, before heading towards the house, said, "Well, gentlemen, I shall be seeing you tomorrow then?"

"Certainly so," said Mercutio, taking a bow, "my good man."

"Also certainly so on my part," said Romeo, laughing and taking a bow as well. Benvolio ran towards his house, and Mercutio and Romeo started off to return to their own homes.

Soon, they reached Romeo's house, and Romeo sighed. He was sure to be scolded, for it was now past the evening and well into the night by the time they arrived.

"Farewell, good friend. I shall see you tomorrow," said Romeo, smiling.

"That you shall," said Mercutio, grinning back, but before he turned to walk away, he coughed.

"Are you alright?" asked Romeo, slightly worried. "Have you taken ill?"

" 'Tis nothing," insisted Mercutio, still coughing. "Must be the cool air. Tomorrow, I shall arrive at your house when the sun is directly above us, then we shall journey to the festival together. Farewell!" He hurried away, turning back once to wave, then he was nothing more than a shadow in the night.  
_  
I hope he is alright_, thought Romeo, still a bit worried. _It would be a terrible shame for him to become ill at such a joyous time._  
Taking one last look into the dark blue sky, he walked to his own house.

* * *

"One hour. Where art thou, good Meructio?"

Romeo squinted through the light, shielding his eyes from the sweltering Italy sun. He had been waiting at the garden near his house for a whole hour now, awaiting Mercutio's arrival. Benvolio and his parents had already left to head to the town square, where the festival was to take place.

_If he doesn't make haste, we shall be late_, thought Romeo, slightly annoyed. The idea of finding a suitable beau amongst Verona's masses had started to sound more and more enticing as the hours passed since Mercutio departed the night before, and he was more anxious than ever to head to the festival as soon as he possibly could.

Growing more impatient, he decided to head to Mercutio's house to see if he had slept in.

Or if he is ill, his mind warned, but Romeo brushed it off. What were the chances?

When he finally arrived at the house, he could make out two shadows moving around in the window of Mercutio's room. Curious, he went inside and headed up the stairs, finding all the other rooms completely empty.

Outside of Mercutio's room, where the door was closed, Romeo could hear a deep voice speaking.

"Now, now, do not worry about it in the slightest. Just take care to rest for the day, and possibly tomorrow, and if thou finds themself not feeling any more well, thou should not hesitate to notify me. Take care, young sir."

If I did not know it otherwise, I would believe that is my ghostly father, Friar Laurence, thought Romeo, even more curious to see what was going on.

A second voice spoke up. "I thank thee for the kind work thou has taken up today, sir." It was Mercutio's father.

So what has become of Mercutio? His hand slowly reached for the doorknob, but he jumped back in surprise when it was opened from the other side, and out stepped both the friar and Mercutio's father.

"Romeo?" asked Friar Laurence, puzzled. "What has called for such presence?"

"Good morning, Father," said Romeo, bowing slightly. "I have come to see Mercutio. But I have overheard things that cause me to be questionable of Mercutio's current state. Tell me, please, is something the matter with him?"

"Romeo, Romeo, do not fret," said Mercutio's father kindly. "He has felt slightly weak since the night passed, and I decided that it would be in Mercutio's best interest to inquire Father about his condition. Comfortable friar hath given young Mercutio a simple medicine that shall raise his spirits and lower his degrees. A mere cough plagues him as well, but do not worry for that matter either, for the medicine can cure many things. I have faith that by God's hand and the friar's gift of making cures that Mercutio will be perfectly fine in a day or so."

Romeo nodded. "May I visit him?" he asked.

"Thou shall," said his father, motioning for him to go into the room. Friar Laurence and Mercutio's father headed downstairs, as Mercutio's father had offered him a drink in spite of missing the festival.

"Mercutio?"

Mercutio stirred, his eyes remaining closed. "Romeo?"

"It is I," replied Romeo, getting closer to the bedside. "How has the divine Master shown his presence today?" he joked.

"The Master hath decided to announce his anger, apparently," said Mercutio, coughing slightly, but a grin spread on his face nonetheless. He opened his eyes, tired and weary, gazing at Romeo. Romeo could now see a bit of sadness in his bright blue eyes. "I must apologize for not informing you of my illness... and that you have come to me instead of heading to the festival. If you desire, you can leave, it will not bother me."

"Mercutio, if you cannot attend the festival, then neither can I," said Romeo firmly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You are the jester. What is a court without its joker? What is a kingdom without a king? What is an Italy without a hot sun? If I were to go, without you there, it would simply not be a festival."

"What you speak is sincere?"

"By all means, yes, it is," said Romeo, smiling. "But I offer my own apology, for you were so joyed by the idea of attending the festival, but now you are confined to your bed. My deepest sorrow for you, friend."

"Words cease, Romeo, it is not the fault of you," said Mercutio, sighing. "It must be the sign of some previous wrongdoing. But of what?"

Romeo laughed. "Well, if you were to count your wrongdoings on your fingers, you would become a beast to rival the spiders of Verona!"

Mercutio laughed as well, his smile spreading to his red, feverish cheeks. "Wouldn't that be a sight for sore eyes? Imagine the townspeople, screaming from the bottom of their very souls, 'ah, God save! Mercutio is coming!' "

"If it were so," said Romeo, laughing even harder. "But, aye me, I have had an idea of sorts. Do not stir, for I shall be quick to return to thy bedside." Romeo got up and left the room, only to return a few minutes later with a hastily-drawn mask on his face and another one in his hand, while in his other hand was Mercutio's old tambourine.

"And what the devil are you up to, benevolent jester?" asked Mercutio, surprised. "And with my tambourine?"

"It goes without saying that if one cannot go to the festival," said Romeo, handing Mercutio the mask, "then the festival must go to that person."

"Meaning?"

"We shall have a festival of our own," said Romeo cheerfully. For the next hour, Romeo sang to Mercutio, singing songs about ladies, Verona, ladies in Verona, and anything else he could think of, all the while to the beat of Mercutio's steady hand on the tambourine. They told jokes to each other, laughing at their masks, and knowing themselves that the fun they were having most certainly rivaled that of the real festival.

After a while, Mercutio began to grow tired again, and Romeo did not bid him farewell; rather, he stayed at his bedside, assuring that he fell asleep with a smile on his face, their masks laying on the bedside table.  
_  
Joy is not necessarily determined by numbers_, thought Romeo. The simplicty of this innocent childhood moment was forever cherished in Romeo's heart from that time on, and he too smiled, staying awake only until the warm sunlight bathing through the bedroom window lulled him into a light sleep as well.  



End file.
